


are you losing energy over there?

by Mellow_Yellow



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: I'm going through a real specific thing right now and I'm sorry, M/M, when two Boyfriend Ideals collide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 00:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellow_Yellow/pseuds/Mellow_Yellow
Summary: this is another incredibly niche follow up to avery Good Postby the ingenious @podsavemysoul.also ahaHAHAhahaha life comes at you fast I guess. also if you want to know why I'm at the place that I am at right now watchthis video





	are you losing energy over there?

**Author's Note:**

> remember our motto team: keep it secret keep it safe, ESPECIALLY this wild mess.

After what was definitely one of the more confusing hookups of his adult life, the last number Tommy expected to see on his phone was Tim’s. They’d gone back to Tim’s hotel, they’d boned, they’d had a little morning back-and-forth where Tommy tried to pretend it wasn’t as big a deal to him as it was that he’d fucked his ideological opposite, and it was pretty good, really. 

That was supposed to be the end of it.

He didn’t even know it was Tim calling until he picked up, the DC area code the only reason he’d take a chance on an unknown number.

“Hello?” he asked cautiously.

“Hey,” Tim said, sounding harried. “Did I leave my wallet at your place?”

“No?” Tommy stuck his hand down into the cushions, digging around and finding nothing. “I don’t think so.” He messed around with the magazines on the coffee table. “Sorry, no. I don’t see it.”

“Shit.” Tim sighed. “I must have left it at the hotel.”

“You already at the airport?”

“Yeah.” Tim sounded genuinely bummed, which Tommy could understand. Having to circle back from the airport was a pain in the ass.

“I’ll pick it up for you,” he offered, already getting up from the couch. Not really sure what was possessing him except that Tim wasn’t asking him to do it, but he sounded upset and he’d given Tommy several very nice orgasms the night before and it seemed rude not to step in if he could.

There was silence on the line. “Why?” Tim asked suspiciously.   
  
“Because I’m trying to steal your identity,” Tommy huffed. He rolled his eyes. “Or because I still have a keycard and I know how annoying it is to circle back and it’s not a big deal.”

“Okay,” Tim said. Then, sincerely, “Thanks, Tommy. That’s really nice of you.” Polite. Like a man whose mom had long lectured him on the importance of thank-you cards. Tommy felt a pang of recognition.

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

It was more than worth it to see Tim go flustered when Tommy met him at the car rental place.

“Um,” he said, cheeks red as he took the wallet from Tommy’s hands. “You didn’t need to do that.”

He really hadn’t, and he wasn’t quite sure what had possessed him, aside from the simple satisfaction of seeing a task through to the end. “I know. Don’t worry about it.” Tommy comforted himself with the knowledge that he would most likely do this for any hookup with a friend. Or a person he knew well. He wasn’t that big a dick. It was just polite.

He had no idea he’d accidentally begun some kind of tactical escalation.

Right before he left for DC a few weeks later, he texted Tim because it seemed like the decent thing to do, let him know Tommy was in town if he—Tommy wasn’t sure, maybe wanted to steer clear? Fair warning? Or, counterpoint, if it maybe led to some really good sex again, so be it.

He was not expecting Tim to call him as he was waiting to deplane.

“What airline are you on?” he asked.

“American? Why?”

“I got off work early, I’ll come get you.”

It took a second for it to connect, and then Tommy was rushing in, “No, oh god, you don’t have to pick me up. It’s not necessary.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just come get you,” Tim said easily.

Tommy paused. “What? It’s not a big deal, I’ll just take a cab.”

“You’re not getting a cab home,” Tim said, affronted. “I’m not making the person I’m having sex with take public transit when I’m available and I have a vehicle.”

“That’s a little presumptuous,” Tommy shot back, weirdly flattered nonetheless.

He could practically hear Tim rolling his eyes. “Oh my god, get over yourself, you’re hot and I had a good time last time and I want to do it again, don’t let it go to your head.”

“Still, you don’t have to pick me up—” Tommy tried, feeling off-kilter, not necessarily mad, but definitely tense.

“Tommy. Stop. I’m already in the car, just—let me know what door you come out at.”

Tommy cleared his throat. He wanted to argue now, but Tim sounded so—earnest, it felt like it’d be rude to push it. And it  _was_  really thoughtful.

“Um. Okay,” he relented. “I’m in terminal two.”

He was suddenly hit with the memory of an argument he’d gotten into with an old girlfriend, once.  _It’s actually more stressful knowing you’re upending your entire day out of some misguided sense of duty to come get me._  He hadn’t really understood what she meant at the time. He was the boyfriend; he was going to pick her up.

Besides, he didn’t quite know how that matched up with what was going on here.

When Tim pulled up to the curb, he put the car in park and came around and picked up Tommy’s luggage for him and lugged it to the trunk.

“You don’t have to—” Tommy argued, reaching for his bag but too many steps behind to truly intervene.

“God, stop, I can carry a bag,” Tim insisted.

He came back around the car, shaking his head. He looked good, hair dark and gleaming. As Tommy opened his mouth to argue, Tim laughed and darted forward to kiss him.

Tommy kissed back automatically for a moment until they both froze. Tim pulled back an inch, frowning. He looked surprised at himself, like he’d been caught up in a reflex and only remembered to be embarrassed now.

“What hotel are you at?” he asked, looking down to fiddle with his phone.

Tommy gave him the name and went to the car and then looked at Tim, nonplussed, as Tim pulled the door open.

“Sorry,” Tim said, letting go of the handle, chagrinned. “Just—habit.”

Tommy nodded, too thrown to make fun of him. He kind of knew what he meant, even if it was weird to be on the receiving end for now.

The worst part was the sex.

It had started as an argument, something stupid in the car predicated by something even stupider from CNN, and Tommy was so annoyed and Tim seemed just as pissed off, and by the time they were up in the hotel room Tommy’s head was mostly cloudy with fury and Tim kept crowding into his space, eyes bugging in outrage.

When he grabbed Tommy by the shirt and yanked him in, Tommy went easily, eager for something quick and angry and satisfying. It was also nice to kiss someone who was mostly his height, but still narrower than him. It felt good to wrap both arms around Tim’s shoulders, reel him in. Tim hummed, clasping firmly at Tommy’s lower back, knuckles digging into the tight muscles in a way that felt really good. Relaxing. Too relaxing. Until things quickly devolved away from the familiar confines of angry sex Tommy would have expected into something—else.

“Does that feel good?” Tim asked, hand curled under Tommy’s knee to keep his leg carefully bent so he could fuck into him at a good angle, getting Tommy so deep. He was watching Tommy intently, hair dripping with sweat, attuned to every minute reaction.

Tommy wanted to sneer and say something devastating, but he was too off guard. He used to sleep with this girl in college who was a snide little asshole in class, and after that with a staffer in a rival senatorial office. He’d angry banged in his time; he was no novice. This was not angry banging. There was way too much eye contact, for one.

Tim ducked his head, kissed him. Cupped his free hand on Tommy’s jaw and looked like he was waiting for an answer.

“It’s fine,” Tommy said, swallowing. His voice sounded tight. Tim was hitting him just right, god. He had a good dick. “It’s good.” Which felt like too much to admit, when really—it was.

Tim groaned, potentially at the praise, hand in Tommy’s hair. “God, you feel good, too.” He pressed his mouth to Tommy’s temple. “You feel really good.”

Tommy was a little lost. It was hard to snap or be mean when the person fucking you was being such a gentleman about it. And that was usually Tommy’s thing. He didn’t know how to play opposite someone who was occupying what he’d always thought of as his role, so he found himself mirroring Tim, helplessly.

“Yeah,” he said, wishing it was more grudging than it was, “yeah, come on. Harder.” He wrapped a leg around Tim’s calf and pulled him closer. “That’s really good. Yeah.” Feeling compelled to be honest, when Tim was being so earnest himself.

It would be easier if things were rough and angry. Neither of them seemed suited to change the pace on their own, though, so they were left to their own devices, which were—fucking basic as hell, as it turned out.

After they both came, Tommy moved automatically to get up and go get a washcloth. Tim sat up too. “It’s cool, I got it,” he said, swinging his long legs out of bed.

Tommy stood up, manfully refusing to wince at the twinge in his ass. “No, it’s fine. I have it.”

“Tommy, I just came inside you, I should be in charge of the damn cleanup,” Tim argued, trying to cut in front of Tommy to the bathroom.

“We used a condom, don’t be dramatic.”

“Still, it’s just—polite, okay, you're being difficult.”

They jockeyed in the doorway, both naked, shoulders banging together. Tim winced when his knee caught on the door frame, and Tommy immediately froze. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, putting his hand on Tim’s shoulder.

Tim looked at him oddly. “Um, yeah. I’m good.”

“You can—you can get the washcloth.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Tim shook his head. “No, you’re good. Go ahead.”

Eventually, they both got a cloth and wiped each other down, even-steven, competitively attentive, and when they got back in bed things were awkward for a minute.

“Something tells me you’re usually the big spoon,” Tim said into the silence.

Tommy laughed, lying on his back. “Yeah, usually.”

“Well, if that would make you more comfortable, I guess—I’m game.” Tim turned onto his side, glancing over his shoulder. Eyes gentle, like he was doing Tommy a favor, which made Tommy a little annoyed, like a point had been scored when he had his back on the goal.

“Fine,” he grumbled, but still pulled Tim’s back against his chest. His dark hair tickled Tommy’s head, bodies lined up evenly, but he was pretty skinny so it was easy to wrap both arms around him.

“You smell good,” Tim said on a sigh.

Tim did too, but now it felt dumb to repeat it. Tommy felt slow, a step behind. He was never a smooth operator but he at least had a bag of tricks, which was fine, but the problem was he and Tim seemed to share the same bag. It was a little annoying.

A little punitively, he dragged the tips of his fingers down Tim’s arm, feeling the skin rise in goosebumps. He didn’t know Tim’s body well enough (and wouldn’t ever, he asserted, this wasn’t a real thing) to know what did it for him, but light tickling tended to be universal. He smiled, smug, when Tim shivered.

Satisfied, Tommy settled in to drift for a bit.

He did like to spoon after sex. Even with strangers, it felt wrong to not at least, like—mark the occasion. Come down together. Usually with bar hookups or whatever he suppressed the urge as best he could, but this was actually not bad. Tim seemed to be just as into it. Tommy could respect that in a guy, even a Republican.

After Tommy’s meetings ended later, he let Tim take him out with some of Tim’s bottom-feeding Republican friends, but they were nice to Tim and Tim was laughing a lot and Tommy felt a familiar sort of focus set in—the need to turn a room in his favor. NSC-style.

One of the operatives, some sharp-eyed lady named Deborah, was eyeing Tommy distrustfully. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be miles away feeling superior?”

Before Tommy could respond, Tim leaned into his shoulder. “Hey, feeling smug and superior is mostly a telecommuting position. You can work from anywhere.”

He turned to smile at Tommy, like they were sharing an in-joke. Tommy could recognize the firm attempts of someone trying to make an outsider feel comfortable and let himself grin. “You’re right. Working from home is the future.” He stood up, glancing at Deborah and a few uptight white guys in light-blue button ups. “What’s everyone drinking? On me.”

One of the blue-shirt guys glanced up. “Liberal propaganda machine pays well, huh?”

Tommy wanted to roll his eyes, but these were Tim’s friends, and he was currently banging Tim, at least temporarily, and the idea of sniping at them directly felt—it just wasn’t done, in Tommy’s opinion.

By the third round, all on Tommy, Tim’s friends were definitely warming to him, if against their will. They weren’t as fun as Lovett or Favs, obviously, or even Dan, but if Tommy set himself apart from every ideology or belief he held, it was easier to enjoy their mild shit-talking. At least all of them were Never-Trumpers, which helped.

That night Tim let Tommy curl up behind him and fuck him, not nearly as rough as Tommy had intended. He couldn’t stop asking Tim if it felt good. It must be catching, he decided, like a tryhard virus. Tim seemed into it, though, and he had to admit he liked checking in. Making sure he was doing a good job.

“Thanks for being nice to my friends,” Tim said, voice catching.

It was quiet in the room save for the air conditioning. Tommy could hear every time Tim’s breath hitched.

“Of course,” Tommy said. “They’re your friends.” He’d seen Tim make a similar effort to be nice to Tommy and Favs when he first came up to visit Lovett. It should be a given; of course Tommy wouldn’t start a fight with Tim’s friends, at least not now.

He ran his hand down Tim’s long leg, gripping his narrow calf to pull his knee up.

It felt like they’d been fucking forever until Tommy realized Tim was waiting for Tommy to come first.

“Do it,” Tommy urged him. “Come on, Tim.” He grabbed Tim’s hand, bringing it down to hold his cock with both of their hands.

“No,” Tim said, teeth gritted. “I’m fine. I want you to.”

“Christ.” Tommy rubbed his forehead against the back of Tim’s neck, easily level with his face because of their shared height. “I want you to come first, please.” The words tripped off his tongue, autopilot, normal stuff he’d say in bed when he and his partner were both tired but not quite ready for it to end, something to make the tension shift. “Come on, baby.”

Tim huffed a laugh. “Baby, huh?” He was jerking himself off now, not needing Tommy’s assistance, but Tommy kept a hand on his wrist, letting his own hips swing, fucking into him a little more deliberately now.

“Shut up, you like it,” Tommy said, guessing really. He didn’t know.  
  
“I do,” Tim admitted quietly. He arched his back. “Come on, that feels good. Harder.”

They didn’t come at the same time, but it was a near thing. Way too near of a thing.

Tommy staggered to the bathroom after, ears ringing, coming back to wipe Tim down in a mild daze. They were both avoiding each other’s eye with what look liked twin, rising alarm.

He settled back onto the bed, on his side, watching Tim for some cue. Was this weird for him, or at least surreal. What was he thinking. Tommy wanted to ask, or to touch his face, try to draw him out. It felt natural, the impulse, but it shouldn’t, and he shouldn’t, so he stopped himself.

“You’re a good—you’re thoughtful,” Tim said. He still sounded out of breath. He seemed to be having trouble looking Tommy in the eye. “It’s not really what I expected.”

Tommy would be more offended if he wasn’t completely winded from coming for what felt like a solid two minutes. He blinked. “You are, too.”

Tim must be a really good boyfriend, Tommy thought hazily. They should compare notes some time. Tommy prided himself on his boyfriend-ing. It was nice to meet a fellow devotee.

He left DC feeling strangely bereft, and not for the fucking city itself.

He didn’t think much of it when Tim kept texting him, mostly because Tommy was texting him back. Tim was good about asking about Tommy’s day, even the boring stuff, even the Democratic organizing stuff that he was sure made Tim gag, secretly. In return, Tommy worked to keep track of the details of Tim’s firm, trying to remember details to ask about later. It only felt fair.

When Tim came to LA a few weeks later he seemed giddy. Tommy picked him up at the airport, even though Tim tried to argue with him about it, the hypocrite, and drove him to the hotel, and Tim let Tommy roll him onto his back, cage him in with his forearms framing Tim’s head, rubbing off against each other while making a truly absurd amount of eye contact. Tommy didn’t know why they both liked it so much; it felt like they were showing off, sometimes, or playing chicken— _I can last longer, be more sincere. I dare you_.

Tommy wasn’t sure what they were doing, if he missed being in a relationship so much he was just slotting Tim in even though they weren’t compatible, really, in the long run.

“Want to see another picture of my nephew?” Tim asked after, pulling his phone out to unlock it.

Tim loved kids, Tommy had learned pretty quick. He made faces at babies on the sidewalk (where he also insisted on herding Tommy to the inside like Tommy was some sort of debutante at risk of getting splashed by a passing car, which was annoying, and kind of sweet), he offered to babysit his friend’s children, he doted on his nephew. They had the love of kids thing in common, at least.

“He’s so cute,” Tommy said, hooking his chin over Tim’s shoulder.

Tim glanced at him, pleased. “Yeah. He is.”

Tommy left on his own later to head over to Lovett’s for the dinner thing Tim was ostensibly in town for, and did his best to be normal. Favs was jovial and friendly, as always. Mostly it wasn't too noticeable. At one point Tim gave him an encouraging grin, like they were pulling something off. Tommy ducked his head to smile and saw Lovett watching them.

He did his best act natural and try and be snarky with Tim, which was surprisingly difficult. Tim seemed more subdued than normal, too.

“I can’t tell if you guys still hate each other, or if this is some elaborate sarcastic bit, or what,” Lovett said, frowning. “It’s weird. You got a real weird energy going on.”

“It’s not that weird,” Tommy mumbled. It wasn’t. He knew that much. It wasn’t weird to be nice to the person you were boning, even if that wasn’t what Lovett meant. 

Tim was in town for the week, and they fell into a routine too easily, probably.

They talked about politics a lot, which was weirdly thrilling, actually arguing about substantive opinion differences, even if Tim’s opinions were all wrong and bad.

And that was when things made sense. At least they ended up in bed after getting riled up after an argument. But soon, way too soon in Tommy’s opinion, they mostly started messing around after watching TV and then they would end up making out slowly on the couch, shifting at intervals when one of them tried to gain enough control to roll on top, cup a long-fingered hand around the other’s chin.

Tommy had always thought of firm face-holding as kind of his signature move, but apparently, he wasn’t as original as he thought he was, staring up at Tim’s face when he drew back to gaze down at Tommy, hands cupped around Tommy’s jaw.

It felt pretty nice, actually, once he got over feeling mildly disgruntled at being unoriginal. Tommy was a little smug by how nice it felt and decided he deserved more credit from previous partners.

When he dropped Tim off at the airport, he took his luggage out of the trunk in defiance of Tim’s objections and set it on the curb.

“This was,” Tommy started to say, then shrugged, at a loss.

Tim was watching him, eyebrows drawn. He ran a hand over his face. “I know,” he said. “It was.”

He left, Tommy watching until he disappeared inside the terminal to make sure he got in alright, and drove away.

Stopped at a light, he pulled out his phone.  _Text me when you get home so I know you made it safe._

A few minutes later, he got back:  _Will do. Don’t text and drive, it’s dangerous._

Tommy didn’t even have the energy to be snippy, weirdly lonesome instead.  _You’re right, I won’t. Just at a light right now._

The typing bubble was up for a while, and just as the light turned green, Tommy saw –  _Call you to say goodnight?_

He heard it for the question it really was. This was definitely a step beyond. He wasn’t stupid. They should probably cool it. They were mostly playing house, two consummate Boyfriends using each other as crutches. It was probably immature, to let this keep going on.

Ignoring the honk behind him, he sent back:  _Definitely. Safe flight._

 

**Author's Note:**

> [turmbulurrrr](ohjafeeljadefinitelyfeel.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> still working on actual stuff, I promise.


End file.
